


9AM Piano

by rainydayes



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Im legit disappointed more of you guys don't write this in ANYWHERE, M/M, and subtextual writing, its about playing piano guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayes/pseuds/rainydayes
Summary: Timothée sees if he can still play piano two years after shooting while visiting Armie's house.





	9AM Piano

**Author's Note:**

> It's late over here so I apologize if there's typos anywhere even after editing.

****“When I said you could come by after nine this morning, I didn’t think you’d be so... _punctual_.”

Timothée laughed at the comment, playing with his sweater sleeves as he tried not to shift around awkwardly. He couldn’t help himself—he hadn’t seen Armie since promotion had ended and they’d gone their separate ways since then. Now that award season had come and gone, the anxiety of leaving Armie again so soon was starting to dawn on him. He obviously wasn’t alone in the sentiment judging by how happy Armie had seemed upon his arrival.

“What can I say? I’m a man of my word,” Timothée replied, and cleverly if he did say so himself. Armie snorted, gesturing for him to come inside. Armie’s house was always in order whenever Timothée came by, all hints of other residents hidden in small shadows and subtle corners. Timothée must’ve lost himself in the thought, for Armie gently paced his hand on his shoulder to bring him back.

“There’s food in the kitchen since I know you forget to eat breakfast.” Timothée blushed at the implication, trying not to think too much about the specific observation. 

“How’d you know I didn’t eat today?” Armie smiled mischievously, guiding Timothée along. 

“Because I know you.” _Because I care. “_ And I don’t want you to fall over from exhaustion under my supervision.” 

“‘Under your supervision?’ Like I’m your kid?” Timothée joked, sitting down at the marble kitchen island. French toast and a glass of milk waited there. Armie shot Timothée a warning look which Timothée tried to reciprocate only to crack into a smile.

“It’s not like that.” _You’re more than that._

Timothée busied himself with bites, letting his eyes wander around the house in attempt to not stare back at Armie whom he could feel not so subtly staring at him. His gaze landed on ivory keys peeking out from one of the corners, causing him to leave his breakfast with a light clang to further investigate.

The piano was humble and gorgeous, the black keys shiny and its body even shinier. Upon further examination, Timothée wasn’t sure how he’d managed to miss it before. He didn’t bother to think about Armie again until he felt a presence behind him. 

“So that’s what you were looking for.” There was a smile in his voice.

“Why didn’t you say anything about?”

“I was distracted.” _By you._

 **_You were distracted by me._ **  

“I’m not even sure if I remember how to play anything now. It’s been at least a year since I’ve done it,” Timothée said, although the longer he gazed at the teasing ivory keys, the more his fingers itched to touch them.

“You’d be surprised how much might come back to you, even after how long it’s been,” Armie suggested, moving from behind Timothée into the shadows of the morning and behind the piano to face him.

“I’m not even sure if I have anything memorized…”

“Timmy? Are you scared of the piano?” Armie teased, making Timothée blush once again.  Timothée said nothing in protest, instead plopping onto the piano bench. His fingers moved to the keys, grazing white and black, eyes shifting between his fingers and where his fingers wanted to be. 

“Timmy.”

He looked up. 

“It’s just me.” _I believe in you._

Timothée played for the first time in months. He played for Armie the same song Elio had played for Oliver in Crema, a gift. When his fingers came to a still, he felt the tension finally leave him as he looked up to see Armie resting his elbow on the piano to prop up his chin, his eyes closed in bliss. Timothée rose slowly to meet him until his eyes opened and Armie gave him an unassuming smile.

“I knew you still could.” Timothée’s lips curled into a smile. 

“What can I still do?” he teased, observing Armie a little closer.

“Make me fall in love with you. Over and over again.”


End file.
